


Back In The Game

by chocolatemangoose (orphan_account)



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, Fluff, Homophobia, Implication/Mentions of Self Harm, M/M, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Slurs, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23851660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/chocolatemangoose
Summary: Johnny turned himself in for murder, and gets sentenced to prison for a year. He gets released, as planned.And shit proceeds to hit the fan.*TWs will be in opening notes.*
Relationships: Dallas Winston/Johnny Cade, Sodapop Curtis/Steve Randle
Comments: 69
Kudos: 91





	1. See Ya On The Flipside

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I’m glad you’re here! Holy shit, hi! Welcome!
> 
> For future reference, I’ll be adding TWs here for anybody who needs it.

“Ponyboy.” 

Ponyboy looked up from his feet, shivering lightly. “Yeah, Johnny?”

“I don’t think I can go through with this.” 

Ponyboy sighed, and opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it when the door hit the wall from being opened so fast. 

“Can’t go through with what?” Dally stood in the doorway, holding a roll of cash and a small handgun. He shut the dingy door behind him, then stopped when nobody said anything. His eyes darted in between the two of them. “What? Got stage fright or somethin’?”

“With this,” Johnny gestured between him and Dally. Ponyboy glanced at Johnny as he cleared his throat. “I don’t think I can go through with whatever you’re about to tell us.”

Dally paused before setting the load of cash and the weapon on the bed next to them. “Look, I know you’re worried, kid. An’ it’s gonna sound like a lot to do, trust me, I know. But I have a solid plan for y’all, and it’s foolproof. You’ll be fine.”

“It’s not that I don’t think we’ll be able to follow the plan, or that anything’s wrong with it.”

“You’ll have enough money to last you a week,” Dally continued, leaning against the door that was parallel to the pair. Johnny wasn’t sure if Dally was honestly being oblivious, or was purposefully trying to ignore what he was saying. He’s too sharp to not understand. “And if you do this right, you two will be pretty far from here, and it’ll probably blow over.”

“Dally. I’m not worried about _that_.”

Dally raised an eyebrow. ”Then I don’t get what you’re puttin’ down, Johnnycake.”

“I’m gonna turn myself in. That’s what I’m saying.”

Johnny saw from his peripheral that Ponyboy’s eyes had widened. Dally’s eyes, however, darkened. He pressed his lips into a thin line, and Johnny felt three feet tall. He gave a cold laugh.

“Holy fuck. You sound identical to Pony—”

“Dally, c’mon—”

“It’s just _funny_ ,” Dally continued, giving him a dangerous stare. “Because Pony don’t always use his head. I’m givin’ you a way to get out of this. To avoid trouble, for god’s sake. But you rather walk into the jail with open arms?”

“Ponyboy didn’t do anything tonight. I was the one who killed Bob. He shouldn’t have to go down for it with me,” Johnny swallowed. He scratched the back of his neck quickly. “An’ it’s not that you don’t have a good plan. I’m glad you wanna help me. But I can’t.”

Dally didn’t say anything to that, and rubbed his temples. The room was filled with an eerie silence that made Johnny shiver, just like Ponyboy did minutes ago. He hated himself for even saying anything. Usually, when it came to any decision, he just went along with the group. He trusted the gang. They’d never steer him in the wrong direction, especially not Dally. He wasn’t trying to do that now; he knew that. Johnny opened his mouth again. 

“Dally, I just don’t want—”

“Ponyboy,” Dally whispered, with an edge in his voice as sharp as a piece of glass. “You reckon you can make it home without any more trouble?”

”Uh,” Ponyboy hesitated, looking at Johnny for help. Johnny gave a quick nod. “Um, yeah. Alright, I can go.”

”Not a word about this to Darry or Soda. Savvy?” 

Ponyboy nodded slowly, as Dally moved out of the way. Ponyboy quickly left the room, and gave Johnny another look before shutting the door. Dally snapped his gaze back on Johnny. “Honestly. What are you thinking? _Are_ you even thinking? I don’t like talkin’ to you like this, Johnny, but _goddamn_. I’ve seen grown men try to claw their way out of jail, and would do anything to leave. But you? You’re willing to put yourself in there? I know you’re trying to do the right thing, but there’s a difference between right and flat-out dangerous.” 

”Listen, Dal,” Johnny began, his voice cracking on the nickname. “If I do your plan, I’ll be okay for what... a week or two? But honestly, what’s that gonna do for me? I won’t be able to show my face for a long time, if ever. I’ll be more paranoid now than I already am, too. The police are gonna be lookin’ for me, and so are his friends— they’re gonna be waiting for me, Dal. _Waiting_ for me! To probably beat me to death, and you know it won’t stop after that... And I can’t blame them. We’re just delaying the blow.”

”Delaying the blow,” Dally snorted. “And you think going to jail is gonna lighten it? Yeah, you won’t be there as long as you might think ‘f you plead guilty. Might get two years or so. But have you ever stopped to think about what prison is _actually_ like? What actually goes down in there?”

Johnny didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what _to_ say to that.

”It changes you, Johnny. It changed me. It’s changed everyone,” Dally continued, his words flying out of his mouth quicker by the second. “And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you go there, and live through that first-hand. You’ll get hurt, and go through so much shit that’s just... inhumane! I can’t even begin to describe to you the amount of bullshit you deal with in there. I wouldn’t dare step back in there again. You're such a great kid, Johnny, but prison will _ruin your fucking life.”_

Johnny swore he saw tears in Dally’s eyes. He didn’t get to look close enough, though, because he turned around. 

———

“Cade.”

Johnny rolled over in the bed, closing his eyes tighter. He figured it was his cellmate, waking him up to let him know that breakfast would be starting in ten minutes. Most of the time, Johnny would get up as he was told, in silence. Sometimes, if he was up to it, he’d talk to the other about what they would have as their meal, (which didn’t really vary from grits or oatmeal). They’d sometimes laugh, and hope for an extra piece of bread this time. And sometimes, Johnny would mentally ask for a few extra minutes of sleep— which the cellmate never was opposed to.

But, it was the same greeting he had received every single day, at the same exact time. 6:50am, on the dot. Sure, there were different ways the conversation could go, but it was all the same. 

As if consistency wasn’t enough. 

He heard a distant chuckle. “Johnny. It ain’t me for once. It’s Stan.” 

Stan... the prison guard. 

_Oh shit, it’s Stan, the prison guard._

Johnny sat right up in his bed, his head getting dangerously close to the abnormally low ceiling. (Or were the bunk-beds just too high up off the ground? He had been wondering about it a little too much for the last few months.) Sure enough, Stan was leaning against their door. The expression on his face was unreadable— his eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. He had his classic, too-tight uniform on, and some crumbs from god-knows what was hidden in his mustache. His eyes were darting between Johnny and his cellmate, before finally grumbling, “C’mon, Johnny. It’s time to go.” 

Johnny stifled a grin, and climbed down the side of the bunk-bed. He glanced over at his cellmate, Fangs, who obviously didn’t care if the guard saw him smile or not. 

Fangs was a twenty-four year old from Hampton, Georgia. What business he had around here, Johnny wasn’t certain on. Johnny had believed that Fangs was on the run from Georgia— probably involved in some sort of fraud. That’s all Johnny could come up with to settle his curiosity. Fangs had told or referenced his arrest story practically twice a week, and Johnny swears it’s changed fifteen billion times. Every time he tells it, at least one detail, minor or not, has changed. But essentially, the gist of it was that Fangs went into a connivence store, and when he came out, he saw some dude slashing his tires. And he ‘slashed him back’. That part always stayed the same. 

Fangs was a pretty interesting character in Johnny’s opinion. When Johnny first arrived, he could tell Fangs had just shown up, too. His hair was close to an afro—an abundance of short, tight curls. But as months passed, his hair resembled a mop. It’d cover his eyes like satin curtains, if he let it. What was most interesting to Johnny was his teeth. The top, front teeth were small and spread out. They reminded him of a toddler’s baby teeth. But his canines were HUGE, and strangely pointy on the ends. Fangs one night confided in Johnny that he used to hate them, but he grew to like them. _“I actually made ‘em sharp myself. Used sandpaper and a knife.”_ Johnny has stopped asking questions at that point, mainly because he wasn’t really willing to make himself sick listening to that.

He didn’t really have much to say a lot, but oh boy; make one comment on something he cares about, and you’ll hear all about it. One time, a fight had broken out during lunch, and Johnny made a small comment. Something like, “The way he tackles, he could make it to D1.” Fangs barely stopped to take a breath after that. Johnny didn’t think it was possible to be involved in a conversation with _one_ other person where he didn’t speak ONCE. But he wasn’t complaining. Fangs was pretty alright company.

”You’re finally flying free! Before me!”

”Shoulda thought ‘bout that when you didn’t plead guilty,” Johnny snickered. “And before you started that fight outside. Bet it added two more months.” 

“You’re just a kiss-ass.”

Johnny hummed. “Maybe. But look what being a kiss-ass got me... Freedom.”

Fangs flipped him a bird as he got off from his own mattress. Then, he stared at him for a moment, before shaking his hand firmly. “Now... you be careful out there, alright?”

”You know I will, Fangs.”

”Just... stay with the gang. Sound like they’re good people,” Fangs hesitated for a moment before sharply pointing into his chest. “And if I ever see you in this prison again, I will beat your ass. I don’t care if that adds twenty years to my sentence.”

”Yeah, yeah.” Johnny sighed, and looked down at his feet. “Thank you for everything, Fangs. You’ve... really helped me out here.”

”No problem,” Fangs gave him a quick noogie before eyeing the guard, who was obnoxiously clearing his throat. “Now, you need to get outta here before Stan dies of old age.”

Stan, being Stan, didn’t hear Fangs’ remark. “Wrap it up, you two.”

Johnny took a step away from him, and quickly scanned the room. The small dent in the floor next to the toilet, where they tried to dig their way out of jail (‘Just like in the movies!’ Johnny would snort). The scuff on the wall, where Fangs threw part of a pipe in a blind rage over another inmate spilling some water on him earlier. The blood stain on the floor, where Johnny‘s bloody nose was acting up again from an inmate at dinner for ‘breathing too loud’. 

Yeah.

No, he wasn’t gonna miss this place. Fuck that.

———

Johnny was wearing the clothes he had worn from the night he turned himself in. He predicted a year ago that they’d at least be a tight fit (in hopes of him growing or gaining some muscle), but they pretty much fit the same as they did before. They were actually a little looser. Or maybe he just forgot how they fit. He wasn’t really sure. It was his blue jean jacket, (he noted some rusty stains near the pockets, before remembering it was indeed blood), a black t-shirt, his jeans, and his badly worn out black converse.

Typical attire for Johnny. And a break from the neon-orange jump suits. 

He was so, _so_ close to freedom. They were just finalizing his release paperwork, which was admittedly taking longer than he wanted. But he didn’t mind too much— it was a fact that he would be walking out of the prison doors today. He’d get to go see the gang.

It wasn’t like he was totally out of touch with them— Lord, they wouldn’t let that happen. They’d probably get themselves arrested just to go see Johnny. Ponyboy spoke to him every single day on the phone, in which he’d hand the phone to Soda or Darry. Sometimes Steve or Two-Bit would be close by when Pony was on the phone. He knew this, because either of them would scream as loudly as possible to just get themselves to be heard by him. It never failed to get Johnny to grin like an idiot.

He recalled one previous conversation with Ponyboy where they talked about handwriting. Pony claimed that if you looked at someone’s handwriting without knowing who it was, you could tell what type of person they were. Johnny claimed that to be bullshit. _“That don’ even make any sense, Pony.”_

That was before he saw the letters the gang sent him. Johnny promised them that wasn’t necessary, but they did it regardless. On his seventeenth birthday, they sent his numerous cards. Paragraphs and paragraphs of just compliments and jokes would be scribbled on the paper. He’d look at them at night, and although he knew he wrote the cards, he could see the point Ponyboy was making. Darry, for instance, had pretty good grammar (as far as he could tell, he wasn’t a genius himself) and rather fine print. His letters were smaller and neater, like he took more time to make sure they looked presentable. Meanwhile, Johnny concluded that Two-Bit had the absolute worst handwriting in human history. It took five minutes for him and Fangs to decode the first sentence on a letter Two-Bit sent him once. They couldn’t even decipher the rest, because he smeared the pen so bad it was pretty much impossible. _That’s kind of pathetic,_ Johnny thought. _I’ve been staring at handwriting as a way to pass time._

But their actions made things a little more bearable for Johnny.

Bearable. 

Y’know, he didn’t exactly doubt Dally’s warning. More or less, he just didn’t fully grasp the magnitude of what he was saying. Johnny should have known better— if Dallas Winston said that he wouldn’t dare go back to prison, that should have told him a thing or too, huh? Which makes him wonder if Dally went through some of the shit he went through, and how in God’s name he—

Fuck, wait. _Dally_. 

Seeing the gang meant he would be seeing Dally, too. 

He didn’t have a problem with Dally. He never has, and never will. But he was worried that Dally had an issue with _him_. 

Dally went with him to turn himself in the day after they argued about it, but he didn’t speak a word to him. He went to the hearing, but he barely looked at him. And after the judge idly announced that Johnny would be released a year with good behavior, Dally got up from his seat and left the courtroom. 

Johnny had lost count of the number of times that each member of the gang has spoken to him. He’s heard Dally’s name pop up countless times in conversation, but directly to Johnny? Three times. Ish. 

The first time was maybe the second month Johnny had been locked up. He was talking to Pony on the phone, lord knows what about, when he thought he heard a quiet voice in the background. _“Who’s that? Darry?”_ Johnny had asked _._ Pony paused for a moment before saying, _“Nah, ‘S Dally. Was asking how you were. I- Oh. I wasn’t supposed to say that ‘parently. Anyways, he says hi.”_

The second time was when Johnny had gotten his bloody nose. He was telling Ponyboy about it. He had apparently been breathing too loudly at lunch, and the inmate next to him too a swung. Johnny cracked up when he asked him to breathe into the reciever. _“Just wanna see if you really needed the punch,” Ponyboy snorted._ Johnny heard a lot of shouting after that (which he predicted was a mixture of Darry telling him not to joke like that, and the other part of it was Soda and Two-Bit losing their shit). After the noise died down, Ponyboy started to snicker, “ _Johnny. Dallas said he’ll send you his own switchblade to defend yourself. What a joke.”_ To which Johnny began to laugh and say, _“Hell, he ain’t gonna give that up to nobody. Not even me.”_

The final time, was a letter. Sure, he signed the birthday cards along with everyone else almost a year ago, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary. So, Johnny didn’t really count that time. What he did count, however, was the letter he received a month ago. It looked like it was written on an index card, and there was plenty of eraser marks. But it was short and simple: 

_“Hope you’re holdin up okay. We want you back over here. Miss you, kid.”_

He kept that one. 

“Mr. Cade?” A woman, who looked to be in her late 50s, opened the door of the waiting room. Johnny slid down a little in his seat, furrowing his brow at the ‘mister’ part. She looked around, lookin’ like a blind man who lost his cane, before finally settling her gaze on Johnny. “You’re free to go. I believe your ride is here.” 

Johnny stood up, and sat still for just a moment. This moment, right here. He had been playing it over and over in his head for the last twelve months. He’d think about it at any meals of the day. He’d think about it while he bathed. He’d think about it before he went to sleep. 

And it was finally here. 

He finally managed to move, smiling as he moved past the woman. All his vision allowed him to see were the double doors of the reception office. This burst of energy was the most he’s had since he’s gotten locked up. He threw open those doors, and looked directly out to the street. 

He saw four figures leaning against Buck’s T-Bird, and felt himself beginning to smile. He didn’t want to flat out sprint over there, but it was hard not to when he heard Ponyboy holler, 

“Hey! There he is!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I haven’t written a lot for myself in a hot minute. Work and endless amount of projects have honestly gotten the best of me. ( You’d seriously think they’d lay off a little because of quarantine, but apparently not. ) But! I had some time, and I thought I’d dive into some Jally stuff?
> 
> The last time I was really into The Outsiders was years ago. What sparked my sudden interest was when my friend dressed up as a greaser, and I was like. Oh shit. But I dug the book out of my closet recently, and I am completely back into this fandom. I’m so happy there’s active writers on here! It’s honestly fantastic.
> 
> Anyway! I hope you guys enjoy the ride from here out. As always, thank you for spending the time out of your day to read this?? Hope to see you guys soon with the next update :)
> 
> (Oh and also: I’m awfully sorry if you guys had to deal with some grammar issues in here. I wrote this kinda late :p I’ve edited and fixed it!)


	2. Wish You Were Here— Oh, You ARE Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rather short one, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to update tonight. Why? I dunno. Just wanted to.

Running into a hug at full speed probably wasn’t the best idea. Johnny actually ran into Ponyboy’s extended arm, earning a yelp from the both of them. Johnny was pulled to the ground, causing Ponyboy to trip over him, awkwardly falling on the concrete beneath them. That didn’t make a difference, though— they both stood up and instantly entered an embrace.

“God, Johnny, I missed you,” Ponyboy laughed, pulling away from the hug. Johnny blinked. He couldn’t help but stare at him in awe. He didn’t look extraordinarily different than before— his hair was slightly longer than Johnny remembered it to be, but in a good way. He had lost some ‘baby fat’ in his face (Darry called it that once, and Pony was not pleased), and Johnny noted that his nose was slightly crooked. Probably damage done from one of the rumbles he had mentioned over the phone a few weeks ago. The only thing that truthfully jumped out to him in his appearance was his left eye. It was a nasty, nasty bruise. Blue, black, purple, _christ_. His eye was practically swollen shut... Whoever gave it to him knew what the hell they were doing.

Ponyboy began to grin, which was the only thing that stayed identical from before. “Jeez, somethin’ on my face?”

“Yeah,” Johnny snorted. “A giant bruise.”

“Real cute, huh?” Soda walked you behind him, pulling him in for a brief noogie. Soda didn’t look much different. He had that classic smile of his, with the same chip in the front, right tooth. Same dimples. Same bright eyes. He appeared to be a little beaten up, too, but nothing too severe. A bruise here and there. “He got it earlier this week from some guy at the gas station. ‘m sure it was someone from the West-side. Shoulda seen Darry’s face when he walked in with that. Turned as pale as a ghost.”

“Tuff, eh?”

“Can you even see outta it?” Johnny held three fingers up in front of him. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Nineteen, probably.” 

“You’re a hypocrite, Johnny,” Steve’s voice came behind him, causing Johnny to jump. He turned on his heel, to see Steve. Johnny had always been envious of Steve’s hair— actually somewhat reminded him of how Fangs’ hair looked in the beginning. Curls, waves, good _god_. He had an almost two-inch scar on his cheek, jagged at the edges. _Done with a switchblade,_ Johnny thought. Instead of his infamous sleeveless, blue jean jacket, he was wearing a beautiful black leather jacket. There wasn’t a scuff in sight, and appeared to be fairly new. How in the world Steve Randle afforded to get that was beyond Johnny. Steve smacked Johnny on the back, not bothering to be gentle. “You look kinda beat up yourself.”

“Says the one with the twelve foot scar on his face,” Johnny elbowed him back. He couldn’t remember the last time he allowed himself to joke THIS much with the gang, but damn, it felt nice.

“Came with the jacket,” Steve smirked with a pride that felt justified in Johnny’s eyes. “Also, ‘s it just me, or did you grow a foot?”

“Yeah, honestly,” Ponyboy sighed. “Maybe not a foot, but you definitely did some growin’ in there.”

“Prolly ‘cause of those chemicals they put in your food,” Soda gave a shit-eating grin. “Speakin’ of that. You hungry?”

Johnny felt a bubble of guilt form in his stomach. “‘S okay. You guys don’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s on us, Johnny,” Steve sighed. “Think of it as a celebration or somethin’. We’ll be celebratin’ your release, and you’ll be celebratin’ getting to eat real food.”

Johnny hesitated, before nodding slowly. “Alright. Okay, yeah.” 

Ponyboy pinched Sodapop on his arm. Soda looked like he was about to rear back and pop Pony in the head, but saw his expression. Pony’s eyes moved from Soda to something behind him. “I thought Dallas was gonna come over here an’ talk.”

_Dally’s here_.

Johnny followed his gaze to see Dallas Winston in all of his glory, leaning against the driver’s side of the car. Both of his hands were stuffed into the pockets of his thick, leather jacket. He had a cigarette in his mouth, which was unlit. _Probably forgot his lighter,_ Johnny thought. _He did that a lot whenever they would go to the drive-ins together._ Johnnycouldn’t really read his expression (or face at all for that matter) from the distance. Fuck, he should have known that he’d be here. Dally’s the closest to Buck out of the whole gang. Who else would be driving Buck’s T-Bird out here? 

“I’m ’bout sick of his goddamn attitude,” Steve growled, lowly. “I love him to death, but he better learn how to open his mouth. What did he think was gonna happen, coming over here? He’d just be the chauffeur or some shit? We coulda walked. We don’t need him over here, but nah, he _insisted_.” 

“Quit it, Steve,” Soda whispered. “Look, I agree with you. He has to talk. That’s why he came. But if you push him, he ain’t gonna do it. So don’t get crunk up just yet.”

Johnny furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

Ponyboy looked over at him. His eyes darted between Sodapop and Steve before letting out a sigh. “Dally’s just off. I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. He’s barely spoken to you, if at all. It was just gonna be the three of us to pick you up— was the plan for a week now. But he lost his shit when he found out, and offered to drive us. So we let him. He’s barely talked to you, so why not just start now? But you know him. You can’t force Dally to do anything unless he wants to. So... I’m not sure if this counts as progress or not?”

Johnny only half-understood, because only half of that made sense. He wanted to drive over here, but has failed to even come over here? Questions clawed at Johnny’s throat. Questions he’s been stifling for the last year. Questions that he’s desperately wanted to ask, but never let leave his mouth.

_Does he talk about me?_

_Does he miss me?_

_How’s he handling all this?_

_Has he even thought about me?_

“Why don’t we just go eat, guys? If he talks, he talks,” Soda offered, clearly wanting to move past this.

”Can we go to Broadway Diner?” Johnny asked. All three of them turned their heads to face him at the exact same time, and Johnny put his hands up. “Or not! We don’t have to. I dunno, I’ve just been craving their pancakes for a while now.”

“As if we’d resist _Broadway-fuckin-Diner_ ,” Steve grinned, wrapping an arm around him. They started walking to the car. “C’mon, kid.”

”Shotgun!” Soda screamed, shoving past Steve and Johnny. Steve immediately let go of Johnny to chase after him, stepping on the back of Soda’s shoes.   
  


“You know, I haven’t been to that diner since you left either,” Ponyboy caught up to him, stuffing his hands in his pockets too. “Which might sound a little selfish. I know you’ve been practically banging your head against the wall for some decent food... but I knew it wouldn’t be the same without you.” 

“Pony...”

”Hey, slowpokes, get in the car!” Steve yelled, still pushing Soda out of the way, desperately trying to get a hold on the car door latch. 

Ponyboy gave a soft chuckle. “I guess we don’t have time to be sincere.”

Johnny barely heard what Ponyboy said. His gaze was on Dally, who was still fucking around with the cigarette. He was messing with the end, almost as if he were mentally lighting it.

He looked up, however, and their eyes met. 

It was only for half a second. But what Johnny saw in that split second didn’t feel wrong. It felt like the separation didn’t even happen. It didn’t feel like Johnny had gone to prison. It didn’t feel like Dally was disappointed in him. It didn’t feel like they had argued, round and round, for hours that night. It made Johnny feel normal. As if it was just another Friday night, where Johnny would go meet up with Dally to go make some mistakes— and wouldn’t give a damn. 

Things were right. 

Until Dally’s gaze dropped down to his feet. And the moment was officially over. He went back to messing with his cigarette. Ponyboy glanced around Johnny, giving him a quick nod, before going to the other side of the car.   
  


“Hey.”

Johnny said it first. He didn’t want to open up with a joke, or a remark, or anything that could mess up the situation more. He honestly just wanted to see how Dally was.

”Hey,” Dally responded back, with almost no emotion whatsoever. He refused to even look at Johnny, and continue to now glare at his shoes. _Great, that helped a lot. Thank you, Dally._

”You forgot a lighter?”

That seemed to catch Dally a bit off-guard. He pursed his lips, and glanced up at him. He furrowed his eyebrows, and murmured, “Maybe.”

”I’d give you mine, but I forgot mine too.” Johnny tried to crack a smile, despite how terribly his hands were shaking. He felt like his joke fell flat. _Fuck_ , this was harder than he thought. 

Dally straightened his posture, putting the cigarette in his left pocket, and squinted. He felt Dally’s eyes travel up his body, and it made Johnny cross his arms. Johnny had been avoiding mirrors for the last six months or so, so he didn’t know the full extent of the damage. But he already knew that he didn’t look too good, and the way Dally’s eyebrows scrunched together practically confirmed it. 

Dally finally made a noise between a grunt and a sigh. “You got... taller.”

_Taller?_

Johnny had prepared himself for about a thousand things Dally would comment on, and a hundred ways he would let him know that turning himself in was a mistake. But commenting on his height difference wasn’t one of them, and Dally damn well knew that. 

“They all said that too,” Johnny agreed slowly, as if anything he said would push Dally overboard. “How much taller?”

Dally scanned him over again, much quicker this time. “Five inches, probably. I dunno, I’m no good with math.” 

Johnny realized that it had gotten deathly quiet. He looked past Dally’s shoulder to see Ponyboy and Steve (who had apparently lost their fight) in the backseat, and Soda in the passenger seat, staring at them with wide eyes. Dally must have noticed the change, too, because he turned completely around.   
  


“Breathin’ down our necks ain’t gonna help the situation,” Dally snapped, snatching the door handle. He slid into the seat, and glanced back at Johnny, cheeks slightly tinted with color. “Where do you wanna go eat? Did you decide?”

”Yeah, uh... Broadway Diner.”

“Alright,” Dally slammed the door shut. He shoved the keys into the ignition, cranking the car to life. Then, he looked over to the passenger seat and scoffed. “ _Christ_ , Soda, I shouldn’t have to tell you to get in the back. Let Johnny sit there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for it being short... and I’ll just go ahead and apologize for grammar issues. I had an abundance of grammar mistakes in the last one without even realizing :/ I work on these rather late in the night. 
> 
> Anyway. I’m currently posting this at midnight-ish, meaning it’s my birthday today. Feel like it’s good so far, considering I’ve just been writing and stuff. I don’t have big plans admittedly, because I’ve grown to just be neutral with my birthday. My family did manage to snag some chocolate cake mix, so that WILL be something I look forward to, ngl.
> 
> OH, and also: did Buck’s T-Bird have doors on it? Or was it one of those cars you have to like, jump into or somethin’? I thought for sure it had doors (or at least had doors on the driver’s and passenger’s side), but halfway through writing this, I was like. Wait. Does this fucker even have doors on it? I didn’t feel like looking it up, tbh. It has doors in this fic now. But I still wanna know. 
> 
> Anywho. Thank you for taking the time to read this. It’s very much appreciated :)


	3. Wouldn’t It Be Nice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3am update :D

The diner was more crowded than they originally expected.

Johnny felt a pang of disappointment in his chest, and judging by Steve’s groan in the backseat as they entered the parking lot, he could tell the others were, too. Dally didn’t say anything about it— actually, he hadn’t said a word since they left the prison. It made Johnny uncomfortable, but he’s never been one to force conversation. Besides, it was hard to even start a conversation if he _wanted_ to, thanks to Steve and Soda’s discussion in the backseat about an irritable coworker they shared at work. 

As Dally circled around the building again, Johnny cleared his throat. “Uh, we can jus’ go somewhere else to eat. I don’ mind.” 

Dally either didn’t hear him or didn’t care, because he slung it into a suddenly available spot. It caused Ponyboy to be practically flung from his seat into Steve’s lap— which was followed by a string of curses. Johnny felt himself snicker.

”Laugh it up, Johnny,” Steve growled, shoving Ponyboy off of him, who was practically in tears. 

“Say, Dallas,” Sodapop started, leaning forward in his seat as Dally put the car in park. “Would you be willin’ to do a number on the waitress at the front? We’d get a table quicker.”

”No,” Dally murmured, reaching over onto the passenger side. Johnny visibly tensed as Dally’s hand moved past his legs. The other glanced up at him, and Johnny quickly looked away— he didn’t mean to freeze up like that.

”Why not?”

“I ain’t in the mood,” Dally went back to what he was doing, and was trying to open the glove compartment. Johnny tapped his finger on the side of the door, trying to shove away the reminder that Dally’s hand was so _close_ to his knee. “Ain’t you capable of doin’ that yourself?”

”I guess I’m gonna,” Soda groaned, shoving past Ponyboy to get out of the car. Steve simply just got out of his seat and hopped over. “I reckon we’ll get a booth or somethin’.” 

“Let’s go, then,” Steve dusted himself off, then stared at Dally, who was now furiously digging through the compartment. “The fuck are you lookin’ for?”

”Handicap tag,” Dally said under his breath, who was now actively unpacking the area. He started handing the various types of clutter to Johnny, who almost dropped it at first. “Dammit. It’s in here somewhere.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Okay, well, we’re gonna go in. Soda’s gonna take a minute, but we should have some place to sit by the time you come in. Alright?” 

Johnny wasn’t a big fan of the idea. It meant more time alone with Dally, who wasn’t exactly being the most transparent about how he felt. On one hand, it was frustrating. All he wanted was to just walk out of jail, and pick up right where they left off. When they would share smokes together. Where they would go to drive-ins together. Where they’d go to the service station and buy an arm-full of snacks. But what Johnny had gotten instead wasn't Dally— it was Dallas Winston. Cold-hearted, selfish, Dallas Winston. And that scared Johnny, more than anything. He had seen that side of him more times than he could count, but it was never directed _towards_ him. 

On the other hand, though, he felt like he deserved this treatment. Dallas had warned him countless times about the reality of prison before he turned himself in. That it’d _change_ him. Johnny surely didn’t think Dally was lying to him, of course not, but he didn’t think much would happen in prison that he hadn’t already experienced. The beatings he had received from his father were just down-right cruel, and the jumpings from the folks from the West-side were equally as brutal. He wasn’t shy to fists or fights. 

But Dally wasn’t exaggerating, and Johnny knew that now.

_Ugh. It hasn’t even been an hour yet. It’ll be fine._

“Damn it,” Dally slapped the top of the dashboard in frustration, throwing himself back into the drivers seat. “It was literally in here two days ago.”

“Since when did ya’ get a handicap tag?”

”I didn’t. Could give a shit less,” Dally scoffed, as he cracked his knuckles. “But Buck’s tired of getting parking tickets, so he thought this would help. At first, I didn’t care, but he threatened to stop lendin’ the car to me if I don’t use it. An’ he’s gonna make me pay for a ticket, an’ I just don’t have the money right now. So we gotta find it.” 

Johnny grimaced as he looked at the trash in his hands. Used napkins, candy wrappers, crumpled-up fast food bags... he swore he saw a glimpse of a condom in there. “Ugh, well it ain’t in here. Check the seat pockets, I guess. I’m puttin’ all of this back.”

Dally twisted his body to feel the edges of the pockets, barley sliding his hand in there. Johnny threw all of the shit back into the compartment, barely able to close it. “Ah, here’s the goddamn thing. Lord knows how it ended back there.”

Dally pulled out a freshly-laminated handicapped tag. It was already creased in the corner, to which Dally messed with for a moment. Johnny was looking at the tag, as he’s never really seen one that new before, before his attention drifted to Dally’s hands. His knuckles were pretty much busted. It was an ugly mixture of purple and blue, with red splotches on top of the actual knuckles. They looked to be fairly recent, probably about three or four days ago.

”Did that happen in the rumble?”

Dally blinked. “What? I— oh. Rumble was a few weeks ago.” 

“Then what—”

“Leave it alone, Johnny,” Dally murmured, hanging the tag on the rearview mirror. He snatched the door handle and got out of the car. “C’mon. Others are probably waitin’ for us by now.”

Johnny followed without another word, but couldn’t drop the subject. Sure, he was used to seeing Dally beat up here and there, but the fact that he didn’t want to talk about it didn’t settle well with him. He’d usually show Johnny with pride, not failing to leave out a single detail about the encounter. But, these aren’t normal circumstances, are they?

The door chimed to signal that customers had walked into the building. The main waitress, who was standing behind a pedestal, saw them and her eyes lit up. She didn’t look much older than Sodapop. Her blonde hair was tightly curled, and the blush on her cheeks popped against her pale skin. The apron with her name— Jessica?— sewn on the corner was tightly tied onto her, and she smiled warmly. The possibility of Dally flirting with her to get a table made Johnny’s stomach drop. “I suppose those were your friends back there?”

”Yep,” Dally said, popping the ‘p’. “Reckon you could tell me where they went?” 

“First booth on the left, that way,” She pointed to the right. She looked back at him, failing to even acknowledge Johnny. “Y’all are a cute bunch.”

”Thanks,” Dally mumbled idly, walking to the right. Johnny glanced at her, who seemed a bit surprised, before trailing behind him. They found them quickly, and noticed that there were already five cokes on the table. “Oh, thanks for asking what I wanted.”

”Boohoo, Dally,” Sodapop stuck his tongue out at him. Steve grinned, next to him. “What were you gonna get? A _coffee?_ ”

Ponyboy scoffed. “It’s unbelievable. I went to sit on that side, and Steve ‘bout slugged me. So, it’ll be a tight fit over here.”

Dally gestured for Johnny to get in the booth first, so he’d be sitting next to Ponyboy. Johnny silently agreed, sliding next to Pony, and Dally sat on the end. “Suppose you ordered for us too?”

”Yeah. No. Sorta,” Steve took a sip from his coke. “Did the breakfast special. Unlimited pancakes, unlimited—”

”Pancakes, eggs, bacon, and get this,” Ponyboy grinned, drumming his fists on the table. “Hashbrowns.”

” _Hashbrowns?_ ” Johnny’s jaw dropped. “When the hell did they add hashbrowns to the menu?”

”Who knows?” Sodapop shrugged. “We haven’t been here in a year, either. I bet you a million bucks that they're gonna kick ass.”

”Oh yeah, speakin’ of kickin’ ass,” Johnny turned to Ponyboy. “Tell me more about your black eye. I didn’t hear ’bout it.“

” _Yes_ , Pony,” Sodapop put his face in his hands and smiled. “Share with us exactly what happened. Lighten us.”

” _Enlighten_. And it ain’t nothing special,” Ponyboy groaned, rubbing his temples. “I went to the gas station to get some smokes. Some guy from the other part of town recognized me, and who I was, and just. Went to town on me. I got away when he pulled the blade out.”

”Good for you,” Johnny patted him on the shoulder. 

“And yet,” Soda sighed, raking his hands through his hair. “That ain’t good enough for me. I feel like you’re missing an awful lot of that story.” 

Ponyboy didn’t say a word. He just averted his gaze, taking a long sip from his coke. Johnny knew in that moment, that yeah, some more stuff went down. It must have been pretty rough if he didn’t even want to tell Sodapop about it. 

“It’s been like this a lot lately, Johnny,” Steve added, quietly. Johnny actually almost didn’t hear him, and looked at him. “Well, I don’t mean about Pony actin’ weird. He’s always weird. I just mean... there’s been a lot more jumpings like that and stuff, with no explanation. No disagreement, no words, no nothin’. It’s just been dangerous whenever we see someone from that side of town. They're after us. You dig?”

Johnny had known that, without anybody telling him explicitly. He had noticed that Ponyboy had been talking about fights and jumpings a lot more in the last few months than he had ever experienced. And it really didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why there was a sudden increase. 

“Sure, you’re right about that,” Sodapop agreed, scratching the back of his neck. “We’ve been gettin’ into more shit lately without us even startin’ it. But I still feel like there’s more he ain’t tellin’ us.”

“Well, the good news is that I’m out of the slammer,” Johnny stirred his straw in his coke. “Meanin’ that you guys will get a break for a minute. They’ve got fresh meat to mess with.”

”Oh shuddup. You don’t mean that,” Ponyboy slapped him on the shoulder, _hard_. “It ain’t just because of you.”

”Still a big reason. I... was the one who... hurt their friend,” Johnny felt a lump in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘kill’. Ponyboy glanced past Johnny to Dally, who was suddenly very interested in his napkin. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to make it weird in here. Was just askin’ about the eye. It really does look tuff.”

”God, please _don’t_ encourage him,” Sodapop whined, starting to slide under the table. 

“Hey, _hey_ ,” Steve’s eyes lit up, looking past Dally’s head. “Food’s comin. Y’all, move your drinks outta the way.”

”Damn, Soda,” Johnny’s eyes widened, clearly impressed. “Whatever you said did the trick.”

The same waitress had been balancing two trays of food on both of her hands. She set down each plate, one by one, as carefully as she could. The bacon was still sizzling, and Johnny felt his mouth water. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a plate of bacon, ever. She put the rest of the food down, distributed plates and silverware, and left with a wink. 

Dally immediately took the plate of eggs.  
Ponyboy snickered, and Dally raised an eyebrow. “What’s so damn funny?”

”I just... have never understood why you like _eggs_ so much,” Ponyboy grinned. Johnny couldn’t help but smile, too. It was true— whenever the gang managed to cook breakfast food, they always made sure to cook two scrambled eggs for Dally. He loved to eat them so much, and would throw a fit if a diner didn’t offer them. _‘You work at a fuckin’ diner. A diner, of all places! And you can’t managed to find a fuckin’ egg to scramble?’_ Dally hasn’t admitted to a lot of other foods, but he didn’t let the gang forget that he could cook the best damn eggs in town. Johnny couldn’t agree more— he actually mixed cheese in there, which sounded disgusting at first, but actually worked together pretty well.

Dally gave a small grin. “Whatever. You know how I feel ‘bout them.”

”You need to share.”

“What are you in a damn hurry for?”

Johnny took the plate of pancakes, and put about five of them on his own plate. He pushed the original plate back, then fiddled with the syrup bottle for a moment, before opening it. Then he began to pour the syrup on them, while mentally planning out what else he was planning to eat. 

“Goddamn, Johnny.” He looked up from his stack of pancakes. Steve was shaking his head, probably in disapproval.

Johnny frowned. “What?”

“You’ve put half of the fuckin’ bottle on your pancakes,” Steve smirked.

”Lay off him,” Ponyboy slid in, dipping a hashbrown into a puddle of Johnny’s syrup. “He’s just tryin’ to enjoy his meal.”

Now it was Soda’s turn to gasp. “Ponyboy, what in God’s name did you just do?”

”Let us enjoy things,” Ponyboy quipped, eating the hashbrown right in front of him. Sodapop gagged. Pony turned to Johnny without batting an eye. ”You comin’ to our house tonight, Johnny?” 

“Yeah,” Johnny grinned. “I wanna see all of you guys.” 

“Good! You stayin’ the night?”

Sodapop looked up from his plate, and glanced at Steve. “I can, sure. I’m gonna go to my house though. Let the ol’ man know I’m alive.” 

“Mm, yeah. Well, you know our house is always open. Y’know the drill. A year don’t change us,” Ponyboy took a piece of bacon. Dally cleared his throat, and Ponyboy looked up at him. “What?”

Dally glanced at Sodapop. “You forgot to tell him, didn’t ya?”

”Tell me what?” Ponyboy asked slowly, like he was trying to feel out the situation. Johnny was a bit lost too, and looked at him for help. 

“We’re not having this conversation here.” Steve said firmly, crossing his arms. “We don’t need to worry both of ’em.”

”We’re sitting right fucking here.” All four of them turned to stare at Johnny when he said that. The looks of concern didn’t help how uneasy Johnny was feeling. “Lemme guess. I’ve been kicked out, right?” 

Sodapop hesitated for a moment. He glanced at Steve, for reassurance, probably, and looked back at Johnny. He answered, softly, “I’m afraid so.”

Johnny felt his eyes go round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn’t honestly necessary to add, but I wanted to write some of the gang’s interactions before moving on. Fun times, right? Anyway, there’s gonna be more important stuff coming up in the next chapter, so be prepared for that. 
> 
> Also, before anybody asks: no. I have no reason for Dally liking eggs so much. I’ve always just mentally had that headcanon ever since I read the chapter in the book where Pony talks about their family’s love for chocolate cake? Completely random, but why the hell not. 
> 
> Beware for grammar mistakes again, folks. I am not a professional writer, clearly. :p
> 
> It’s literally 3am. I’m so tired. I’m ngl, I honestly just wanted to write because I have been so stressed out lately. This quarantine stuff really hasn’t been too much of a problem for me, but now. Ugh. I hope all of y’all are staying safe out there. 
> 
> Anyway. Thank you for reading!! I’m so glad you’re taking the time out of your day to. :-)


	4. Just Too Afraid

Johnny stared down at his plate for a solid moment, looking at the stack of pancakes that was starting to appear soggy, when his vision was blurred with tears. He lightly pushed Dally’s arm, who was basically rigid in his seat. Dally turned to him, with an expression that Johnny couldn’t quite read. 

Regardless, he didn’t really care about how Dally felt right now. “Excuse me,” he murmured. 

Dally opened his mouth for a split second, before closing it, and scooting out of the seat. Johnny got out from the booth, and made a beeline for the entrance. He barely glanced at the overly-cheerful waitress from before as he slammed the door behind him. He made it to the exterior of the building, eyeing Buck’s car and that stupid, _fucking_ tag. It probably wasn’t even real— the source was probably from the guy who made Dally fake IDs. 

He was pacing. 

Why was he surprised? Why _should_ he be surprised? It was a matter of time before he’d get kicked out. Everything Johnny did pissed his father off. It didn’t matter what. He’d get punched square in the jaw if his father _thought_ he looked at him in the wrong way. 

He heard the door open from a distance. Johnny took a shaky breath, and quickly wiped away any evidence of tears. He would not look weak.

He _couldn’t_ look weak. 

He _wasn’t_ weak.

Anything but **_weak_**. 

_“The weak jus’ don’t survive around here. The people here— they look for any sign of weakness, an’ they eat that shit up.”_

“Johnny?”

Johnny felt relief fill his veins when he heard it was Ponyboy. He turned to face Pony, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You didn’t know?”

”They... didn’t tell me,” Pony said softly, running his hands through his own hair. “They knew I’d tell you over the phone or somethin.’ An’ they’re right— I would have... but they said they didn’t wanna add more to your plate.”

Johnny kicked a pebble. ”’s okay.”

”It’s not, though.”

”How did they know?” Johnny asked quietly. “‘Bout me gettin’ kicked out, I mean.”

“Didn’t have a chance to get the details. I just wanted to know why they didn’t tell me. But they said somethin’ about your stuff in trashbags.”

”Out on the sidewalk?”

”I suppose,” Ponyboy sighed, and came over to Johnny. He wrapped one arm around him, gently. “Look. I don’t know what they’ve all got in mind, but I’m tellin’ you right now, our house is always open. Like I said a minute ago— it still applies. You’re our family.”

“You’re real good to me,” Johnny shivered a little bit, feeling the guilt wash over him. ”I just feel like a bum for stayin’ there all the time, y’know?” 

“I get it, but you gotta understand— I’m offerin’. We all are. Unless you want to stay with Two-Bit—”

”Hard pass,” Johnny laughed weakly. The two sat in silence for a moment. It wasn’t uncomfortable— nothing like what he experienced earlier with Dally. It gave Johnny a chance to just cool down. He was in good hands.

Pony broke the silence first. “Darry’s gonna talk to you more about it tonight, I think. That was the original plan, but I fucked that up without thinkin’.”

“You’re alright. You didn’t know.” Johnny cleared his throat, and Ponyboy looked at him. “You have a smoke?”

Ponyboy didn’t have to answer him. He dug around in the pocket of his jacket, then threw the whole pack at him. “Bet those withdrawals were nasty.”

”No kiddin’,” Johnny took one out, and passed the box back. Ponyboy slid one out for himself, then pulled out his lighter. “Now, you gonna tell me what really happened at the gas station?”

Pony stopped flicking the lighter, eyeing him for a moment. 

“You already know I ain’t gonna tell Darry. Or Soda, or nobody, I suppose.”

”This ain’t just ‘bout me, though.”

That really stuck out to Johnny. “Oh?”

”Look, I know you won’t, but you haveta promise me you won’t say a word to anybody ‘bout it,” Ponyboy took a long drag on his cigarette. “I promised Dally I wouldn’t tell anybody, ‘specially not you.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Dally?”

”He... was involved,” Ponyboy flicked the ashes from the cigarette onto the concrete. “Same thing. I went to the gas station to get three packs for the next few days. Wasn’t the one Steve and Soda work at— Steve was on my nerves that day, so I didn’t want to deal with him, because he had a shift there.”

Johnny nodded, slowly. Every pause that Pony took began to slightly irritate him— something was obviously different from this time around.

”It wasn’t planned, but I saw Dally gettin’ gas over there for the T-Bird. He was raisin’ immortal hell about Buck, who’s starting to make ‘changes’ and what not. I don’t really remember. He was just pissed off. But he offered to swipe the smokes for me, but I told him it was fine. He came in, said he had to take a leak, but he’d drive me home. Which was nice of him, because Steve wasn’t joking about how rough things have gotten,” Ponyboy hesitated for a moment, and sighed. “Anyway, I came out, hmm, not even two minutes later, and some guys standin’ at Buck’s car. Not even rummaging around for loot. He was just standin’ there, like he was waiting.”

”Who was he?”

Ponyboy looked at him sadly. “I don’t know his name, but he was there _that_ night, Johnny.”

”You mean he was there when I...” Johnny trailed off, staring at Ponyboy in horror. Pony paused, but nodded, slowly. Johnny took a drag on his cigarette, attempting to steady his nerves.

“He didn’t let me forget that fact, either, because he remembered me too. Came over to me, started pointing into my chest, hollerin’ and what-not. An’, you know, I’m kinda used to it at this point. All these people from the West-side always liked to throw in jabs about us, even before this situation. It got a little worse, but I think they had a point where they knew when to stop, if that makes any sense. But...”

”But?”

”He made it personal. He said some really disgusting shit, Johnny. Stuff that made me want to crawl under the fuckin’ road. It was so sick,” He pressed his lips together. “He pinned me down at some point, and every insult he made was punctuated with a punch. It was... awful. Nothing like you went through in the cooler, but it was just bad for a lot of reasons.”

Johnny was curious as to what was exactly said, but another part of him didn’t even want to know. Ponyboy left enough to the imagination, and Johnny knew and accepted that it was most likely worse than what he can ever come up with. He put a hand on his shoulder.

”Dally got him off me at one point. You know, I’ll say this about him. ‘Bout Dal, I mean. He’s been actin’ weird about you and stuff, but he really defended you out there. Beat the tar outta him. It was incredible and terrifying,” Ponyboy stopped, grinning for a split second. “But shit really hit the fan when the guy tried to pull out a blade. Because you know what Dallas did?”

”What’d he do?”

”He pulled out his heater.”

Johnny sucked in his breath without even realizing it. If all of the information wasn’t enough a kick in the gut already, hearing that was a thousand times worse. You don’t pull _guns_ out in a fight, let alone in public. It’s always been an unspoken rule between the two gangs. Johnny began to start shaking even more, and he couldn’t tell if it was out of frustration or just anxiety. 

“Are you—” Johnny’s voice cracked, and he kicked himself for it. “Are you being _serious?”_

”Serious as a heart attack,” Ponyboy spoke gravely, crossing his arms. “Thank god nobody else was out there. I pushed him off and told him to put it away. But he is _so_ stubborn, and you know that more than anybody. But eventually, we got in the car and left. And he told me not to tell a soul or he’d skin me.”

Johnny didn’t even realize his mouth was hung open. 

“I know that’s a lot to process, an’—”

”I don’t understand,” Johnny murmured, his hand flying up to his hair. He threw his cigarette on the ground, crushing it in a matter of seconds. “He— He didn’t even have a single mark on his face earlier, right?”

”The guy didn’t have a chance to give him one.”

”A gun,” Johnny scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “How can he be so fuckin’ _stupid_? He knows better than that. _Why_ did he do that?”

“Beats me,” Pony shrugged. “I don’t think he was gonna actually use it. He’s too smart for that. I think it was meant to scare the other guy, but I agree. It was a little much.”

”And when’d this happen?”

”Like... three, four days ago, I think.”

Johnny didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he just sat down on the aged concrete, back against the wall. Ponyboy immediately joined him, entering the silence again. 

How could he be so fucking careless? Dally’s always stuck up for Johnny; whether it was a joke from Two-Bit that just barely crossed the line, or when Johnny had mercilessly been beaten by his father. Dally could switch from neutral to dangerous in a matter of seconds, which Johnny both admired and admittedly feared. So, no, Dally jumping into a fight for him wasn’t unheard of. But christ, pulling a gun out? For what? Was he trying to go to jail? Did he even care? 

And his actions didn’t even add up. 

“How does he even do that?” Johnny wondered out-loud, causing him to catch Pony’s attention again. “He’s barely spoken to me in the last year. He’s barely talked to me today. And then I hear that, maybe three days ago, he showed his ass at a gas station for me?”

”Oh, he wants to talk to you, Johnny.”

”Is he trying to prove a point or something?” Johnny brought his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them. “Because that what it feels like, y’know.”

“Well,” Ponyboy scratched the back of neck. “I won’t lie to you. We don’t know what all you went through in the last year or so, Johnny. I know you haven’t told me everything, but it isn’t my place to ask. I can’t speak for Dally, but we all know he’s been to prison multiple times. The way he begged you not to go tells me what I need to know.”

”I don’t get what you’re sayin, Pony.”

”I think Dally’s too scared to talk to you.” Pony pulled out his pack again from his pocket, taking out another cigarette. “Which sounds dumb, I know, because Dallas Winston ain’t afraid of anything, right? But I’ve thought about this, over and over, for the last few months. What you’ve told me. How he’s acted lately. Dally’s always been so sweet on you, so it’s really upsettin’ to watch him avoid you an’ stuff. But I think that... he believes that whatever happened to _him_ in prison happened to _you_.”

Johnny thought about that for a moment. 

“So you think he’s afraid that I’ve changed?” 

“Bingo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o
> 
> I don’t have a lot I really want to say tonight. I’m just hanging out for now!
> 
> I am very THRILLED you guys are enjoying this so far!! The support from you all makes me so happy :,) Thank you for wanting me to continue. 
> 
> Planning on updating soon!


	5. These Punk Motherfuckers Don’t Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12am update? yippee!

Johnny didn’t want his emotions to get in the way of the meal, so after a few more moments outside, the two of them collectively agreed to go back into the diner. They got a raised eyebrow from the waitress as they walked back in, but Pony narrowed his eyes at her (a trick he most likely picked up from Darry). They both showed back up at the booth, and Dally got up from his seat again to let them back in. Soda was currently digging through his jean pockets, and Steve was hunched over the table, fiddling with what looked like to be the bill. Judging from the pact of silence, the previous conversation was over. 

“You guys better eat up,” Dally said, throwing his used napkin onto the table. “We’ll be leavin’ sooner than later.”

Johnny didn’t even glance at him, and took a piece of bacon, which was now cold. Soda slammed a wad of one-dollar bills onto the surface, and shoved Steve. “Didn’t leave them any damn bacon?” 

“There’s three pieces left!” 

“Damn hog, that ain’t enough for them.”

“Get onto Dally, he’s the one who ate all the eggs.”

Ponyboy and Johnny ate rather quickly, not wanting to make the others wait longer than they had to. Johnny could tell Soda was starting to get antsy; he's never been good at sitting in one spot for so long. But he couldn’t help but wonder about what Pony said about Dally. The fight? The gun? Him being too afraid? 

None of it added up. None of it.

After Johnny pushed away his plate of pancakes, they left the diner soon after. The five of them went to the car (well, the four of them did, actually— Soda was held behind by that one waitress for a while) before heading back to the Curtis’ house. The drive itself was fine. Dally had the radio on, but it could barely be heard over Soda and Steve’s conversations (and with Pony’s few remarks). At one point, Steve tapped Johnny on the shoulder, and asked, “Have you always had a piercing?”

Johnny looked back at him. “What?”

“In your ear,” Steve gestured towards his left ear. “You have a little hoop there or somethin’. It’s tuff.”

“Wait, _have_ you had that?” Pony perked up, elbowing Steve out of the way to see. “Woah.”

Out of the corner of Johnny’s eye, he saw Dally’s jaw tighten. Johnny cleared his throat. “I got it in the cooler.”

Soda grimaced. “How’d they do it?”

“Christ, I can‘t remember exactly,” Johnny scratched the back of his neck. “Hurt like hell, though. I got it the second day I was there.”

“Willingly?” Ponyboy asked.

“Uh, no,” Johnny laughed, uncomfortably. 

“Luxurious. Bet the way they did it was like a trip to the spa, huh?”

“ _No,_ Soda, it’s _ain’t_ ,” Dally barked, gripping his hands onto the steering wheel. Johnny saw Soda visibly recoil into the seat. “They get their hands on somethin’ sharp, sometimes a blade, sometimes a nail, an’ they heat it up with a lighter. Then, they heat it up to the point where it’s unbearable, an’ they stab that shit into your ear. They have to hold you down, because you’re literally gettin’ something hot _pierced_ through your ear. Does that sound goddamn _luxurious_ to you?” 

“I was fuckin’ _kidding_ , Dal. Christ.” 

“Why don’t you stop talkin’ about shit you don’t even know about.”

Johnny turned back around in his seat, staring at the glove compartment from earlier. Dally wasn’t too far off from what happened when he had gotten his piercing, and he hated it. He hated how Dally _knew_ about these things. Johnny wondered for a moment if Dally knew what getting the piercing meant, but felt stupid for even questioning it. At least he didn’t explain that to the others, if he did know... because he didn’t know if he could handle that.

Johnny glanced at Dally, who was now eyeing him. Johnny stared back at him, before giving him a quick nod, and looking back at the window. 

———

_“That isn’t good, Johnny.”_

_Johnny climbed up into his bunk, fluffing the pillow to the best of his abilities. His cellmates, Fangs, was now staring at the dried blood on Johnny’s ear._

_“No shit, Fangs. It hurts like a bitch— it’s gonna be so swollen tomorrow.”_

_“Well, I know that, Johnny— but do you even understand what that means? The earring?”_ _Johnny raised an eyebrow. Fangs glanced back at the door before looking at him again. “It’s... it’s a signal to other inmates.”_

_“I don’t get it.”_

_“They think you’re an easy target,” Fangs explained quietly, running a hand through his matted hair. “So... the earring tells other people that they can... treat you however they want, if you know what I mean.”_

_“Well, can’t I just take it out? I think they just bent a paper clip or something.”_

_Fangs climbed up onto Johnny’s bed, and poked his ear. Johnny hissed in pain, and Fangs brought himself closer to his ear. “Too smooth to be a paper clip. Only way you can get that off is with pliers... and they already know that they put that on you. They won’t forget.”_

_“So what, I’m branded like a goddamn cow?”_

_“Essentially, yeah,” Fangs sighed, sadly, as he jumped off of his bunk. “I’ll do my best to back them off, but I won’t always be there. Not because I don’t wanna be, but just because of how shit is run here.”_

_Johnny pressed his lips into a thin line. “So they’re gonna jump me?”_

_“Jump? Well... yeah, they’ll do that,” Fangs hesitated, and stuffed his hands into his jumpsuit pockets. “But what I mean is that... they’ll_ _do_ _whatever_ _they want to you.”_

_———_

The rest of the car ride was rather quiet, but once the car was sling into the driveway, everyone seemed to act accordingly. The three in the backseat all shoved and pushed each other to get out, while Johnny took his time to unbuckle his seatbelt. He glanced over to Dally, who was messing with the keys. 

“Dal?”

Dally glared up at him. “Hm.”

“Uh... thank you.”

Dally’s glare turned rather soft. He put his tongue in his cheek, looked down at the cup holder between them, then back at Johnny. “For what? I didn’t do nothin’.”

“What you said back there. And drivin’ me around an’ stuff,” Johnny shrugged, then proceeded to unbuckle his seatbelt. 

Dally didn’t say anything for a moment, before drumming his hands on the steering wheel, briefly. “It is what it is. Let’s catch up to ‘em.”

The pair made it inside the house, listening to cheesy sound effects playing throughout the house. Steve made a comment about ‘shutting that goddamn TV off’ before a shout of protest came from the other side of the house. Johnny only assumed for it to be Two-Bit. As the two of them turned the corner, Darry appeared. 

It was only for half a second, but Johnny saw it. Darry froze.

“Welcome back, Johnny!” Darry smiled, giving him a gentle side-hug. Johnny didn’t see Darry smile too much, but whenever he did, it was a treat. What was odd, however, was that he had a chip on one of his front, top teeth. He always viewed Darry as handsome and put-together. He didn’t look like he had changed a lot, much like the others. He had been wearing his typical attire: a too-tight black shirt, completed with worn out blue jeans and a brown belt. He definitely appeared to be more toned than before, but that wasn’t shocking at all to Johnny. 

“How’ve you been, Darry?”

“Fine, fine,” Darry nodded, crossing his arms. “You hungry?”

“Just ate, but thanks anyway.”

“It’s nothing. Our house is yours, too,” Darry grinned. “Two-Bit was crawlin’ around, earlier, but he left to go pick something up for us. We’re gonna be havin’ a little party tonight.” 

“Did he go _alone?_ ” Dally’s asked, coming back from the kitchen, with a beer in his hand. 

“I volunteered to go with him, but he insisted I stayed here,” Darry spoke slowly, eyeing the bottle in Dally’s hand. “It’s not even nine yet, go put that beer away.”

“Yeah, save it for tonight, Dallas!” Steve slapped Dally on the back of the neck, _hard_ , before fleeing to the couch. Dally put his beer down before charging after him. 

“Don’t _break_ anything,” Darry said sternly, before looking back at Johnny. “Anyway, at some point today, we need to... talk about a couple of things.” 

Johnny felt a lump in his throat. “‘Bout my dad, right?”

Darry’s eyes widened. “You know?”

“Sorta. It kinda came out at breakfast, but I don’t know anything, really. Just know I’ve been kicked out.” 

“Yes... you’re right about that,” Darry ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I wanted to tell you myself... but we’ll talk about it anyway. I’m sure there’s plenty you don’t know about it, but that’ll be later. Don’t worry about it, alright?” 

“Okay,” Johnny nodded. “Excuse me, will ya?”

“Of course,” Darry said, as a lamp was knocked over. “Okay, _what_ did I just say about not breaking anything?”

Johnny moved past Darry to locate the bathroom in the hallway. There was only one restroom in the house, shared by all three of the them. It was in between Darry and Pony’s room, parallel to Soda’s. Johnny made it, but before stepping in, he made a cruel realization: a mirror was in here. He couldn’t remember the last time he had looked in the mirror. It was possibly after the _incident_ , but that was months ago... so he hadn’t seen his reflection in months. That was a fact. Johnny had no idea how terrible he looked, and he certainly wasn’t eager to find out. 

But he was a bit curious, too. He mainly wanted to know what the rest of the gang had been seeing all day. 

He stepped into the bathroom, purposefully darting his eyes to the tile on the floor, as he locked the door. Johnny stared at the stained tile, and mentally counted to ten, before looking up at the mirror. 

Right then and there, he understood why Darry froze when he saw him. Why Steve made a comment about him looking ‘beat up’. Why Dally had looked him up and down. 

Johnny had always looked a little rough; that was thanks to the punches his father would supply him with. But it was nothing— absolutely _nothing_ to what he was looking at right now. His nose didn’t seem like it ever healed correctly, so it was slanted to the side. He had bruises on different areas of his face— some darker than others. His lip had a rather large slit on the side, which was due to a blade someone managed to sneak in a few weeks ago. He had a disgusting wound on his chin. Under his eyes were huge dark circles, due to the fact that he barely got any sleep in there. There were barely visible scabs in his hairline. There were tons of scars on his cheeks. There were tons of deep, dark red scratches.   
  


The longer Johnny stared, the more he saw. 

And that was just his fucking _face_.

Johnny kneeled down, buried his face into his hands, and tried his absolute best to not burst into tears. 

To which he failed at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this update taking longer than I wanted it to! I’ve been super busy this week :( 
> 
> I kinda like how this one turned out. I’ll be doing random flashbacks of Johnny being in prison in the middle of the chapters sometimes. Just a side note. I probably should have like, said that before. 
> 
> I wanna thank y’all for all of the support I’ve gotten on this so far! Your comments and kudos mean the world to me :D


	6. Been For A Walk On A Cold Winter’s Day

Johnny eventually managed to compose himself, and quickly made his way back into the den. He didn’t want to make the others suspicious with how much time he was spending in the bathroom. Interestingly, Ponyboy and Darry were the only ones present. They were both sitting at the kitchen table. The table itself only fit six people— and to solve the dilemma with the shortage of available spaces, there was a large beach chair at the end of the table. It was neon yellow at some point, but has aged with time. Two-Bit _always_ sat there; he claimed it was his ‘rightful throne’ (which never failed to make the rest of the gang groan). 

Darry and Pony were actually in the middle of a conversation, which made Johnny grin. Pony had frequently come to Johnny with his frustrations about Darry. He often stressed about the fact that he felt like he couldn’t talk to Darry. Which made more sense— Soda was more of a good listener, while Darry was more logical. And sometimes, the most logical thing isn’t always the best thing to hear. But, thankfully, Pony had been sharing with Johnny small discussions the pair would have every now and then— and actually seeing it made him happy. 

“Where’d everyone go?” 

The two glanced up at him, and Pony leaned back in his chair. “The three of them were gonna go try to track down Two-Bit. An’ Dally said something about needing supplies, so Soda and Steve offered to give him some at the gas station on the way back.”

“Supplies?” Johnny frowned. “For what?”

“I dunno,” Ponyboy shrugged. “Mentioned somethin’ about pliers.”

“If I were to guess, it might have something to do with the T-Bird. Buck really has been crackin’ down on him about it. But I don’t know, it could be for something else,” Darry leaned forward in his seat. “Let’s talk real quick, Johnny.”

“Right,” Johnny sighed, plopping down into the chair across from Darry. “So... what happened?”

“To be honest, Johnny, we’re not really sure what actually _happened_ ,” Darry started, fiddling with his hands for a brief moment. “But, I think a month or two ago, Dally— wait no, was it Steve?”

“Was Keith,” Ponyboy nodded.

“Keith, right. He was walkin’ down the street, and he passed your house. He didn’t even know it was your house at first, because we never really went over there, but he saw a bunch of trashbags near the mailbox. He said he didn’t pay any attention at first, but then saw that it had a sign near it that said ‘free stuff’. And you know how Two-Bit is,” Darry smiled momentarily. “Will get anything for free... but as he was diggin’ through it, he noticed your sneakers were in there. The ones he used to make fun of you for about being too small. And that’s when he realized... it was _your_ stuff laying on the side of the road.”

Johnny’s heart sank. He hated that he was disappointed in his parents, but it was not at all surprising. It was actually a bit shocking that he wasn’t kicked out sooner— but the fact that they threw his own belongings on the side of the road, as if it was actual garbage... yeah, it didn’t set well with him. It was almost like a new low.

“So, he brought your stuff here,” Darry explained slowly, not breaking eye contact with Johnny. “I’m not sure what all you had before, but I’m positive some of it might be missing. I don’t know how long it was on the sidewalk for, since your house is on the opposite street from ours... but it’s here. It’s been in Pony’s room, and he has not rummaged through it.” 

“Y’know,” Pony started, poking Johnny on the shoulder. “Two-Bit stood up for you. He actually went to your front door and banged on it for half an hour. Or at least that’s what he told us. He said he wanted to kill them... your parents, I mean.”

Darry narrowed his eyes at him. “ _Ponyboy_.”

“An’ I don’t mean no harm to your folks, Johnny, don’t take it that way,” Ponyboy put his hands up in defense, glancing at his brother, who was currently shooting daggers in his direction. “But it’s true. He went there for a solid week, everyday, banging on their door. He wanted to talk to them _so_ bad, it ain’t even funny.”

“Did they... answer?”

Ponyboy furrowed his eyebrows, and stared down at the table. Darry’s gaze shifted to Johnny, and he looked at him sadly. “I’m sorry, Johnny. I called them a couple times, but never got a hold to ‘em.”

Johnny sucked in his breath without even noticing it at first. He slumped in his chair a little.

His stuff.

Was on.

The fucking street. 

“I don’t think we can proceed with anything legal,” Pony said, breaking the silence. “We had to go to court for Darry to get custody of Soda and me. But, at sixteen, you can legally choose where you wanna live. And you’re about to be eighteen in like, a month or so, so—”

“You can only choose where you wanna live at sixteen when it comes to divorced parents, but I’m happy you looked into that,” Darry reminded him gently, and Pony’s eyes visibly brightened. “Anyway, Ponyboy does have a point. You’ll be eighteen soon, so at that point, you’ll... be free from them for good. But, I wanted to let you know about your options— I don’t want to assume, and make a decision for you.”

Johnny squinted at him. “Options?”

“About where to live, yes,” Darry nodded. “I’m not sure you know this or not, but Steve finally got an apartment. I think he’s getting one of the Shepard boys to move in with him, but he’s offered you a spot there. Two-Bit’s place is open, as usual, but I’m willing to bet you’re not, erm, really wanting to deal with his mom. Dally has some space in that place Buck stays, and—”

“Dally said that?”

Pony’s eyebrows raised, and Johnny felt his face heat up. He didn’t really mean to blurt that out. 

“Well, yes. We were talking about it, the night Two-Bit found your stuff, and he offered.” 

Johnny’s mouth must have been open or something, because Ponyboy snorted. “Don’t worry, I almost had a heart attack when I heard that, too. He’s never shared anything in his life.” 

“And, of course,” Darry continued, ignoring the tangent. “Our place is open. Ponyboy has graciously offered his room. And yes, I understand if you say no. His snoring rattles the house.”

Ponyboy glared at him. “Wow, really?” 

“I’m gonna have to agree with Darry on that. I’m sorry, Pony,” Johnny snickered, to which Ponyboy let out a grunt. “But anyway, I don’t want to intrude on anything—”

“You’re _not_ , Johnny,” Darry insisted. He crossed his arms. “I have my own opinions about how your parents have treated you— and I can’t speak a lot about it, since I haven’t experienced it myself, nor is it my business. But I have absolutely _no_ respect for them throwing you out like that, without even having the courtesy to tell you. This is the least we can do for you, okay?”

Johnny shifted in his seat. It always seemed like Darry was bending himself backwards for the gang in general, and it always made Johnny feel guilty. He had no doubt that he was always welcome to the Curtis home— he had gone over there after the worst encounters with his father. It was a safe space for any of the gang members, not just him. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt when a plate full of food was set in front of him. Or when he would sit down on their couch. Or when he would lie down in a bed, next to Ponyboy. 

It always felt like they would give, give, and give. And all Johnny could do was take, take, and take. 

“Darry—”

“Listen, Johnny,” Ponyboy burst in, taking Johnny back a bit. “I can’t speak for everyone else, but we’ve always loved it when you would come over. We would hate your reasons for coming sometimes, but there was nothin’ we could do about it... But we _love_ you, Johnny, and we always have. You’re allowed to just... _breathe_ here, you know? An’ we haven’t seen you in a year, an’ we’ve just really missed you. You’re not being a burden on us— an’ I mean the whole gang! We’ve always got your back.”

Johnny couldn’t hold back his smile, or the tears welling up in his eyes. 

———

After their discussion, Ponyboy dragged Johnny to his room to go through the three trashbags of stuff that had been in the corner of his room. There wasn’t much to even go through— most of it was random school books from previous years, and some of it was shoes and clothes he actually cared about. 

“Say, is your switchblade in there?” Ponyboy asked, after going through the last bag. 

“Nah. I used it, remember?”

Ponyboy’s face turned pale, and his eyes widened. “Oh, Johnny, I’m so sorry. I forgot.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Johnny laughed, slightly uncomfortable. He folded the trashbag in his hands as neatly as he could, before handing it to Ponyboy. “Here, y’all can use these for trash and what not.”

“Thanks. Wait, so you never got the blade back?”

“They kept it, I think. Piece of evidence,” Johnny got up from his spot on the floor, and dusted his jeans off. “I wouldn’t want it back, anyway.”

“I understand, was just wondering. Didn’t mean to offend you... but you’re gonna need another one, it ain’t safe without one.” Ponyboy went silent for a moment, before his eyes lit up. “Oh! I’ve had a surprise for you. I’ve been waitin’ to tell you this for _months_.” 

Ponyboy climbed over his bed to his desk, where he fumbled with papers and other clutter before pulling out a book. It was a rather unpleasant color of pale yellow, and had random scuffs and tears on the cover. Johnny squinted, staring at the front. “ _To Kill A Mockingbird..?_ ”

“I read it a long time ago, but it’s my summer-reading or whatever. I thought we could... read it together?” Pony saw the way Johnny’s eyebrows twisted together, and put his hands up. “An’ before you trash the idea, just hear me out. I actually really liked the book, from what I can remember. It isn’t boring or uninteresting. I can read it to you. We’ll be spendin’ a lot of time together now, so I just thought—”

“No, it’s a good idea,” Johnny nodded, and Ponyboy smiled. “But you have to read it, and you might need to explain some stuff. I’m no good at that shit, but if you think it’s alright... I trust you.”

A little while later, the pair heard the screen door slam against the wall, signaling that the rest of the gang had come home. They went back to the den, to see Soda had already draped himself over the couch. Soda and Dally were loading in a few bags of groceries, and Two-Bit made himself known to the entire house after over-exaggerating a yawn. 

Johnny didn’t even get to breathe before Two-Bit had run up to him, giving him a massive hug. “Oh, Johnny-O! How I have missed the absolute _FUCK_ outta you!”

“Shut your trap, Two!” Steve groaned, to which Two-Bit pulled away from Johnny to flip the other off. 

Two-Bit didn’t look too different. _Somehow_ , (which Johnny couldn’t even comprehend) he had gotten more muscular. Two-Bit practically towered over everyone anyway, but apparently that wasn’t enough for him. He styled his hair a little bit differently, now— it kicked out in the back, instead of it being slicked to the sides of his neck. Which was nice, it suited him better in Johnny’s opinion. He had that well-known, but not unwelcome, gap in between his two front teeth. The only difference, was that he was missing a bottom tooth. He didn’t look beaten up at all like the others, but Johnny was able to catch glimpse of his knuckles as he flipped Steve off— and saw that they were in equally terrible shape as Dally’s (if not worse). 

“Kid, I cannot tell you how much I’ve missed you,” He pulled Johnny in for a quick noogie, before setting him free. “Hey. You’ve grown, too. Hot dog.” 

“Heard you threw a tantrum at my house,” Johnny stuck his tongue out at him. 

Two-Bit chuckled. “Possibly. Consider the source, though... who’d you hear it from?”

“Heard it from me!” Pony called from the kitchen. 

“Ah, well, I guess I can’t argue,” Two-Bit shrugged. “But it wasn’t a problem. Just stickin’ up for your ass. And I— Hey! Who turned off _Gunsmoke?_ ”

Johnny blinked. “ _Gunsmoke?_ ”

Surprisingly, it was Darry’s turn to groan, who had walked in from the kitchen. “It’s Keith’s new favorite show, apparently. Cowboy picture, which is fine and all, but he comes over here and throws a fit when we want to change the channel. Sits there for _hours_.”

“Don't you have a TV at home, Two?” 

“He threw a beer bottle at it a month ago, and it hasn’t been workin’ right since,” Soda snickered. “You know, normally I wouldn’t care, but _Gunsmoke_ has the same exact fuckin’ plot for EVERY episode. Like, surprise, surprise! A cowboy meets a rival cowboy! What’s gonna happen next?”

“Can it, Soda!”

As the two of them began arguing, Johnny caught sight of Dally walking by the table. He picked up his beer, and took a _long_ sip. If Johnny were to guess, he downed half of it in that single sip. Johnny perused his lips. He wondered if Dally still had that gun currently strapped on him. 

Dally glanced at him, and his eyes widened slightly.

Johnny made himself look away. 

The next hour or so was slow, but in a good way. The gang had briefed Johnny up on some small, but amusing stories that Pony either forgot to mention, or just flat out didn’t know the details to. Apparently, Steve had gotten possession of that flashily leather jacket from a drive-in. It was apparently just lying on a car, and Steve thought it was a wonderful idea to swipe it. Turns out, it belonged to someone from the West-side, and it started a brawl. Then, at some point in the year, the gang thought it was a great idea to have a contest to ‘test their booze point’ (according to Soda, which made absolutely no sense to Johnny whatsoever). But what that entailed, was that the goal was to drink as much as possible, and whoever drank the most and vomited last won. Dally, apparently, won this, which made him shrink a little in his seat when Two-Bit mentioned that fact. 

After a while, Ponyboy decided to put on a record. He put on a record from The Mama’s and The Papa’s, which resulted in a huge debate whether or not “California Dreamin’” was a decent song or not. Johnny thought it was a fine song, but that was it. He thought that’s where the argument would end, but apparently, half of the gang had some pretty strong feelings towards the song. 

“It’s just _stupid!_ ”

“What is stupid about it? Explain it to me, Steve. What about this song pisses you off?”

“Alright, y’all are clearly arguin’ about this for shits and giggles,” Dally rolled his eyes. “Excuse me.”

He got up and went outside, slamming the screen door behind him. The gang really didn’t pay much attention to that, as they were interested in the god-awful debate (that had really formed into a disagreement between Soda and Steve). Johnny personally thought Two-Bit, Ponyboy and Darry were mainly feeding into it at this point, just to see who would win, but Johnny kept his gaze on that door. He stared at it before standing up. 

“I’m gonna go after him.”

That seemed to catch the gang’s attention, causing Steve and Soda to falter a bit, but they didn’t truly say anything about it. Johnny trailed behind, cautiously opening the door, to see Dally leaning on the chain-linked fence in the front. He was attempting to light a cigarette with his newly-equipped lighter. 

“You got your lighter?”

Dally tensed a bit, and glanced over his shoulder, before his shoulders went slack and turned back around. “It’s not really mine. Just got it from the store. Two-Bit swiped it for me.”

“Oh.” Johnny didn’t really want to go up to him, mainly because he didn’t know how he would react, so he slowly sat down on the stairs leading into the driveway. 

Silence filled the air, and Johnny honestly found it suffocating. He had loads of things he wanted to say to Dally. He wanted to scold him. He wanted to ask if he was mad at him. He wanted to tell him that he was thankful for him. He wanted to know what was running through his _goddamn brain._

“I bet you’re happy to be home.”

Johnny blinked. “Well, yeah. Obviously.” 

Dally didn’t say anything for a moment, before flinging the entire cigarette out in the road, and turning on his heel. “You better not be expectin’ me to humor this whole ‘celebration’ thing.”

“What?”

“Look, don’t misinterpret what I’m ‘bout to say. I’m thrilled that you made it out. You’re _alive_ ,” Dally went over to him and glared down at him, pressing his lips into a thin line. “But you ain’t fine. You ain’t ‘good’. I fuckin’ saw it a mile away when you came out from the prison. You flinched whenever anyone from the gang touched you. I saw it when Ponyboy hugged you. I especially saw it when Steve slapped you on the shoulder. ’Was clear as a goddamn picture.”

Johnny bit his lip. “But I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did. I saw it with my own eyes,” Dally glanced at his fingernails for a moment, before going back to eyeing Johnny. “And I don’t want to say it’s your fault, because it ain’t. Nobody deserves any of the shit they put you through in there. But it’s so, _so_ goddamn frustrating, because I tried to warn you.”

“I know that, but—” 

“It was the right decision. That’s what you’re gonna say, right?” Dally narrowed his eyes, and kneeled down to get to Johnny’s level. “An’ if it were a perfect world out there, with rainbows and sunshine, things would be just dandy. But guess what? You ain’t never gonna trust anybody the same again. You ain’t ever gonna forget what went down in there. You’re gonna replay those memories, those feelings— everything. And it don’t matter if you wanna forget, you ain’t gonna. Because the world is a cruel, goddamn place. And I tried my absolute damnest to prevent you from ever having to deal with that... but you _didn’t listen_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’know, “To Kill A Mockingbird” was the only book I enjoyed reading in my high school career. So. That’s why it’ll be in here? because I can make it >:) (okay but fuck the symbolism projects I had to do for that book. I hated that shit.)
> 
> I hope everyone’s been doing well! It’s very nice to see the support— I’m so thankful you guys are giving this a chance. I haven’t written an actual fic in so long that I’ve been confident enough to post! 
> 
> (Also, because this was pointed out to me— idk why the quotation marks look weird :/ I can’t seem to fix them)


	7. So When You’re Near Me, Darling, Can’t You Hear Me

The rest of the afternoon mainly consisted of the gang hanging out in the living room, lazily passing around a variety of drinks, cigarettes, and even joints. The soft buzzing from the TV, which was currently playing _Gunsmoke_ , was in the background. Someone would occasionally tell a story, or feel the need to give Johnny an update on what was new— but Johnny new that there wasn’t a lot new in Tulsa. His mind was now clouded by his concerns with Dally, who was now sulking on the opposite end of the couch. The others must have picked up on his mood, because they didn’t bother him. Hell, they probably heard the entire encounter, since the only barrier between the room and the pair was the paper-thin screen door. Dally was in fact radio-silent, except for an occasional request for a drink. 

Johnny wasn’t surprised in the slightest that Dally was still upset about him going to prison; he had known that he would still be irritated about it. However, Johnny didn’t suspect that it would be that _intense_. And that was okay. He didn’t even attempt to defend himself, because he knew that Dally was _right_. Johnny ultimately put himself through the horrors of prison, and didn’t listen to his most trusted companion. Dally warned him about what would happen, and it happened. 

_Well, no,_ Johnny thought. He didn’t exactly know the extent of his fate when he agreed to go to prison. So it wasn’t fully fair for Dally to say that, right?

Johnny asked for another cigarette.

Nobody was really in the mood to eat lunch, since the five of them already had a bigger breakfast. Darry wasn’t hungry either, but Two-Bit naturally got up from his place on the floor, and went to the kitchen to rummage around. After one o’clock, some of the gang members went their separate ways, but agreed to come back for dinner. Dally left first, murmuring something about going to owe Buck some cash. Ponyboy gave a look at Johnny, who didn’t dare to make eye contact with the other. Darry glanced at his watch, and made a comment about taking the car to go get its oil changed— to which Soda and Steve vigorously insisted to tag along. Two-Bit stayed behind, but then asked Ponyboy and Johnny if it was alright if he could take a nap (mainly because he was up gambling the little he had the night before). 

The two went to Pony’s room. Johnny day on the edge of his bed, as Pony sat at his desk, flipping through his battered copy of _To Kill A Mockingbird_.

Johnny eyed it carefully. “Long book, wouldn’t you say?”

Pony smiled. “A little bit, yeah, but I think we’ve got the time. It’s got a lotta metaphors and stuff in it.”

Johnny groaned, letting himself fall back into the bed. “ _Metaphors?_ Fuckin-a, Ponyboy.”

“Hey, I know, but I promise it’s a good book,” Ponyboy put the book down on his desk gently, and his brow furrowed. “So Dally got in your ass?”

“So you heard,” Johnny breathed, staring up at the ceiling fan. “He’s still pretty upset with me.” 

Ponyboy hummed. “Give it some more time. He can’t be this way forever.”

“I know,” Johnny pursued his lips. “He knew what I was in for, and seein’ it probably just made shit worse for him. I get it.”

Ponyboy was quiet for a minute, which made Johnny turn on his side to face him. Pony fidgeted with his hands for a moment before giving a quiet sigh. “What Dally said about the piercing was true, wasn’t it? They really gave it to you that way?”

Johnny felt his shoulders go rigid. “I forgot what they used, but, um, yeah. I really didn’t want it.” 

“We weren’t tryin’ to be disrespectful by asking about it... we thought it looked badass, y’know?” Ponyboy ran his hand through his hair, his gaze going to the side. “We... we wouldn’t have asked—”

“Pony,” Johnny said, firmly. Ponyboy weakly looked back at him. “Listen, I don’t care that you asked ‘bout it. I know you didn’t mean anything by it— I actually wasn’t offended. I don’t wanna be a victim all the time... All the shit that happened in the cooler is in the past. I’m home now, and I’m here with you. An’ the rest of the gang. An’ that’s all I care about.” 

“Okay,” Ponyboy nodded slowly. “But, Johnny, if you ever wanna talk about whatever happened to you, I’m always here for you. Don’t feel pressured by that or anything, I just mean if it’s on your mind, you don’t have to bottle it up, y’know?”

“Thank you,” Johnny sat up, slapping him on the shoulder. “Now, I know you wanna read that book... you’re gettin’ antsy.” 

“I was _not_ ,” Ponyboy gave him a grin, picking up the book from its original spot. “I will admit, the beginning is kinda slow.”

“So what?” Johnny scooted over, giving Pony some room to sit down next to him. “I like hearin’ you read. It’s just nice to listen to.”

“I dunno about all of that, now,” Pony snorted. “But I’ll do my best.”

———

The next few hours were passed with Ponyboy reading to Johnny, who found himself to be more interested with every word that left Pony’s mouth. They managed to make it through three chapters, and had a lengthy discussion about the Finch children. Some theories were thrown in about a mysterious character, Boo Radley, but was unfortunately cut off by Sodapop busting into the room. “We’re home, hooligans.”

“Do you even know what a ‘hooligan’ is?” Pony asked sharply, before Soda stuck his tongue at him. Ponyboy climbed over Johnny to tackle him, but Sodapop was already down the hall. 

To Johnny’s surprise, everyone except Dally was home. Steve had boxes full of cheap beer on the kitchen table, as Darry was collecting various items around the kitchen. Johnny guessed that he was starting dinner. 

“What’s all that beer for, Steve?” 

“I told you, Johnny,” Steve gave a shit-eating grin, slapping the top surface of one of the boxes. “It’s a goddamn celebration! We’re getting _drunk_ tonight, and Dallas Winston can kiss my ass.”

“I’m down, but I’ll go to hell before I’ll join in on a drinking contest,” Johnny warned him, taking off his jean jacket. “I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

“I like how you think, Johnny,” Darry called from the kitchen. “Can one of you give me a hand?”

Ponyboy ended up helping, and the other four sat at the kitchen table, participating in various conversations. Two-Bit began describing his experiences from the previous night, after Johnny asked him to elaborate more on it. Apparently, Two-Bit developed an extreme hatred for strip poker. He claimed he was only there for the actual poker part, and was a bit shocked that people actually stripped when told. Johnny couldn’t help but agree with him, until he brought up a certain blonde he had an interest for. 

Dally eventually stumbled in, and eyed the setup around him, before walking up behind Two-Bit and dropping a small plastic bag in front of him. 

“What’s this, Winston?”

“Your pickup from Tim.” 

Two-Bit turned around. “You went to see the Shepards?”

Dally’s shrugged. “I had the time.”

Keith stuck his tongue in his cheek, but visibly brushed it off. “Okay, well thanks anyway. How much was it?”

“On me this time,” Dally said, walking around the table. He pulled out the chair next to Johnny, who sucked in his breath. “But don’t get too comfortable with that. Just this once.”

Keith grinned. “Oh, you wound me.” 

Johnny noticed that Steve was practically staring a whole into Dally, who had failed to notice. He stood up and tried to open the beer box, struggling with the tape. “You better take a drink, Dally,” Steve huffed. “You’re being weird.”

Dally didn’t have the time to make a remark, because Ponyboy came into the room with his hands full of plates. “Soup’s on, y’all.”

“Those are sandwiches, dipshit.” 

“It’s a saying, smartass,” Ponyboy groaned, placing a plate in front of Johnny. “Also, hey. That was my spot, Dal.”

“And now it’s mine,” Dally cocked an eyebrow, his lips in a thin line. Pony flinched slightly. “Could you give me a plate?”

“Jeez,” Soda blinked. “You really are bein’ strange. You’re nice one minute, then a complete ass. Want a beer, Johnny?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Johnny nodded, extending his arm out to retrieve the drink from Soda. 

“Darry, you’re a fuckin’ legend!” Two-Bit hooted, taking a bite from his grilled cheese. “Goddamn. Johnny, ain’t this your favorite or somethin’?”

“Oh, you know it,” Johnny smiled, feeling himself relax a little bit. “Darry’s are always the best. I’m glad he made them.” 

The atmosphere completed flipped after that. Everyone seemed to be in a much better mood, and Johnny suspected it might have had to do with the alcohol. Ponyboy eventually offered to bring out his playing cards, so they could all play Blackjack, and everyone eagerly agreed. Keith added to the game, saying the person who was closest to twenty-one was safe, while everyone else had to take a drink. Not even thirty minutes into the game, it became a good-natured screaming match between Darry and Steve, which crunk everybody up. Darry was a well-mannered man, and usually kept himself pulled together, but whenever he got into a playful mood, it really was a sight worth seeing. The room was full of laughs, causing Johnny to get a wicked case of hiccups. Pony fell on the floor at some point from laughing so hard. Hell, even Dally was having a good time; he was grinning ear to ear, and even jokingly argued with Two-Bit. 

It really made Johnny feel like he was at home. 

The game died down gradually, and after an hour, everybody had grown bored of cards. Two-Bit practically raced to the living room when he heard the _Gunsmoke_ intro play, earning a groan from everyone else in the gang. 

Darry went to wash the dishes, politely declining Pony and Johnny’s help. Some of the gang wandered into the living room, but Johnny excused himself to go outside. He said he wanted to smoke, but in reality, he just needed a minute to himself. His head was killing him, and the booze didn’t exactly help. 

He leaned on the chain-linked fence (in the same position Dally was in, actually), and stared at the sky. The sun was starting to set for the day. The sky was a beautiful orange color, with very few clouds around. He could hardly see the sun, since some trees and other houses were covering it, but he did catch sight of the very top of it. It was brighter around the sun, and it made Johnny grin. 

It had felt like ages since Johnny had seen the sky like this. 

“Johnny.” 

Dally’s voice made Johnny jump a little bit, before turning around to see him. Dally was leaning against a post on the porch, clearly trying to steady himself. He wasn’t looking at Johnny, more or less, looking past him. His hand was clenched around something that Johnny couldn’t really see. “I’m about to go back to Buck’s.”

“Okay,” Johnny answered, quietly. He figured that Dally was leaving, saw Johnny out here, and felt the need to say something to him. Johnny didn’t care at the moment. “Be careful.”

“Johnny,” Dally repeated, his voice coming out scratchy. He cleared his throat, and walked down the steps leading to the sidewalk, but didn’t step any closer to Johnny. He hesitated, scratching the back of neck. “Um... you can’t take that piercing out on your own. You’re gonna need a tool.”

Johnny’s eyes widened as Dally handed him a pair of pliers. They were clearly aged— had tough rubber handles, and the ends were slightly rusty.

“I can’t speak for you, but I wanted mine out as soon as possible... learned the hard way,” Dally pointed to his right ear, which had a scar down the middle. The hole, where the piercing originally was, was outstretched. It was much larger and longer than normal. “But anyway, you can use them. I don’t know.” 

Johnny stared at the pliers for a moment, before biting his lip. “Do it for me. Get it fuckin’ off of me.” 

Dally’s eyebrows shot up, and he took a step back. “I don’t wanna accidentally hurt you or somethin’.”

“I don’t care, Dally,” Johnny sighed, pulling himself off of the fence. “Can you just... do it for me? _Please_.”

Dally eyed him for a moment, before gesturing for the tool. Johnny gave it to him, rather quickly, and Dally squinted at his ear.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” Johnny closed his eyes, and felt Dally messing with the wire. The actual snap of the wire scared Johnny more than anything, but other than a slight pinch, he didn’t feel anything. Dally pulled the rest of the wire out of his ear, causing Johnny to wince, before he felt Dally back away from him.

“There it is.”

Johnny glanced down at the wire, which he could now tell was the remains of a disregarded paper clip. He swore he saw on rust on it, but felt a lump form in his throat when he realized it was dried blood. He shoved it in his pocket, turning away from Dally. “I’m gonna throw it away.”

He heard Dally shift behind him. “Would be best.”

Johnny rubbed his temples for a brief moment, before looking back at Dally. He gave him a small smile. 

“Thank you, Dally.”

Dally averted his gaze. He stared out on the street for a moment before biting his own lip. “I’ll get goin’ now.”

“Be careful.”

Dally nodded, still refraining from making anymore eye contact with Johnny, and opened the gate. He shut the gate behind him, and walked rather quickly down the sidewalk, hands shoved in his pockets.

Johnny felt himself smile before going back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PRESENT DAY UPDATE: I am no longer working on this fic, and I’m orphaning it. I apologize for any inconveniences, and I’m thankful for the support I’ve gotten over the last few months.
> 
> In case of any remake/future updates: the original author is @/chocolatemangoose . 
> 
> Thank you, once again, for the support. I appreciated every bit of love I got on this fic, and I felt very welcome in the fandom. But stuff happens, and I no longer have motivation to complete it. OCs are open for use if necessary. Love y’all, stay safe.


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